


Draco's favourite day

by Phoenixontherise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Short & Sweet, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12926130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixontherise/pseuds/Phoenixontherise
Summary: Draco has a favourite day, and oddly enough it's all about Potter!





	Draco's favourite day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GingerFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerFerret/gifts).



Monday was Draco's favourite day.

Monday afternoons meant quidditch practice, although not for the green and silver team, but for the Gryffindor team. 

Under the pretext of spying on the opposing team, Draco spent Monday nights hiding in the trees at a safe distance to watch Potter soar through the sky, passionately and at ease, tearing through the sky like a bullet and diving straight towards the ground with immense speed. He was so at ease up there that Draco’s eyes never left him, not for a second. 

Potter may have a history of being clumsy on his feet, but in the air he was elegant, majestic even. 

He followed every movement Potter made, memorized them, filed them in the back of his mind for a lonely night in the dungeons.

If someone was to spot Draco where he hid behind a large oak tree, they would see his face light up in a bright, wide smile, while he watched and his grey eyes shine.

 

   
Tuesday was Draco’s favourite day.

From 10.15 to 12.00, 8th year had potions with professor Slughorn. Draco was ahead of the class, which meant he had plenty of time to watch Potter's vague attempts at staying awake during the lecture, and even more vague attempts at making a potion. 

It was beyond Draco, how someone could fail so miserably at making a potion with the recipe right in front of them. On this particular Tuesday, Potter managed to set his hair on fire, panic ensued, students gaped, some laughed and the professor waved his arms about and shouted at Potter, who couldn’t possibly hear him, because… well, his hair was on fire. Luckily Granger came to the rescue and did a quick spell that produced a tiny grey cloud, which rained down on Potter. Potter’s hair was (fairly) undamaged, nothing a minor haircut couldn’t fix.

In spite of the drama, it didn’t go unnoticed that Draco was suspiciously silent during the incident, some even claimed that he had looked relieved, when Harry’s hair had finally been extinguished.

 

   
Wednesday was Draco’s favourite day.

It was the night before the arithmancy assignment had to be handed in, and many sat in the library prepared to pull an all-nighter. Draco sat in his favourite seat far in the back, relatively hidden by a large bookcase, but still able to observe a good part of the room. Potter was there of course, sitting next to Weasley, both with desperate looks on their faces.  
Draco’s hand was frozen inches above his scroll, eyes locked on Potter, observing every movement. Potter moved about in his chair, restless and agitated; a sign of stress, Draco had seen it before. Potter’s right hand drummed away on his thigh, his chin rested on his left hand, mouth slightly pursed. 

Every so often Weasley would lean in and whisper something in Potter’s ear, making Draco frown and narrow his eyes as though it would make him able to hear what Weasley had said. 

What Draco secretly loved about these Wednesdays; every so often Potter would look up from his book, his eyes would scan the room and eventually end up looking straight into Draco’s eyes. Potter’s mouth would twitch into a sort of but not quite smile and knock the breath out of Draco and produce an obscene number of butterflies in his stomach.

 

   
Thursday was Draco’s favourite day.

The best thing about Thursday was dinner in the Great Hall. Now, this wasn’t unusual of course, but on Thursdays Potter worked with Hagrid all afternoon, caring for his creatures. Hours of hard physical labour left Potter sweaty and dirty and with no time to shower before dinner was served.  
Draco of course, didn’t find this appealing, but what caught his attention was Potter’s appetite and a horrendous lack of table manners. Potter shovelled food into his mouth seemingly not concerned with choking, and made small moans of pleasure. Even though Draco couldn’t hear them, he thoroughly enjoyed how Potter looked, while he made them.

One might notice that Thursdays were the only day of the week, where Draco seemingly had trouble locating his mouth with his fork. 

 

   
Friday was Draco’s favourite day.

Friday afternoons was spent repairing parts of the castle that were still damaged from the war. The students were divided into small groups of two and three, who would work together on specific areas. 

Draco and Potter were in the same group, and every week they would work together in companionable silence, casting the complicated restoration spells. Draco had never expected to feel so comfortable in Potter’s company, it had been a slow process, but it was these Friday afternoons that had changed his view of Potter.

Fortunately, everyone was so engrossed in their own work that it went completely unnoticed the amount of time Draco spent looking at Potter’s backside.

 

   
Saturday was Draco’s favourite day.

After a long week of intense studies and hard work, for some at least, Saturday night came as a blessing. The houses took turns hosting an inter-house party. The parties were usually a huge success and had played a big role in strengthening the bond between houses.

Draco knew that Potter preferred to sit near the fireplace in the most comfortable chair he could find, relaxing, laughing and talking animatedly with his friends. Draco’s favourite position was leaning against a wall directly behind Potter, shrouded in the dark, close enough to listen in on the conversation, but distant enough to not be noticed by the trio.

If anybody had been awake or sober, they would have witnessed a passionate declaration of love at 2 in the morning, in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room.   
 

 

Sunday was Draco’s favourite day.

Sunday was a day of rest and hangover potions galore.  
Hogwarts was eerily quiet on Sundays, students mainly kept to their dormitories, a few could be found scattered around the castle; in the library, the corridors and down by the lake, all seeking solitude and quiet for their aching heads. 

As per usual Draco lounged by the water knowing that Potter chose the lakeside on Sundays as well. Draco always kept his distance, he came to observe not to interact after all, but each week they’d be a few feet closer than the week before. They never acknowledged the other’s presence; Potter, lost in his own inner world, sat and threw stones into the lake, Draco would pretend to read, but not once had he ever needed to turn the page, he was looking at.

If anyone had been by the lake on this particular Sunday afternoon, they’d have seen two boys, one with wild, dark hair and one with sleek, blond hair, sitting next to each other, fingers entwined.


End file.
